


A Night to Regroup

by MamaWithGloriousPurpose



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Love, Comfort, Hints of Castiel/Dean Winchester - Freeform, M/M, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationships, Team Free Will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 03:05:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5811250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MamaWithGloriousPurpose/pseuds/MamaWithGloriousPurpose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But there were still plenty of nights like these. After monsters were killed and towns full of unsuspecting people were saved, the boys would need a night to regroup. A shower and a good four hours, hopefully a drink or two (or more depending on the severity of the fight). Sometimes they needed the privacy to tend to each other's wounds. Sometimes, like tonight, they just preferred a roof over their heads instead of a long drive in bad weather.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Night to Regroup

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick drabble because I'm cold and having fluffy TFW feelings on Dean's birthday. 
> 
> Happy birthday my dear Winchester. You own my heart as you own both of their's. 
> 
> Hope everyone is safe and snugly and far away from any impending storms. Xoxo

The dank smell of mold and dirt was stirring in the air as the rain outside began to fall harder. It was dark and cold in the cheap motel room the Winchester brothers were sharing for the night. Thanks to the encompassing rain clouds and the middle of nowhere location, virtually no light shown through the window hidden not so discreetly behind the bent up old venetian blinds. 

A lamp was aglow on the nightstand set between two queen size mattresses. The beds looked inviting after a hard evening's work. Tan sheets were tucked tightly around well worn springs and surprisingly fluffy, cream colored comforters topped them off. At the head of the beds were solid wood boards with glossy finishes that had been dinged and scratched over their years of service. Each were affixed with quarter slots offering the option of magic fingers. 

Dean lay atop the bed closest to the motel room door. A half drank beer sat to his right and the green duffle full of his belongings was left forgotten on the floor between the bed and the wall. An old sultry tune from rock and roll's past hummed through his earbuds as he dropped another quarter in the slot. Closing his eyes once more, he drifted away to his happy place as his body relaxed into the sheets. Between the vibrations and the alcohol, he was feeling a pleasant warmth all over. The bite of the cool air grazing over his skin, clad only in a threadbare shirt and boxers, was an oddly appreciated contrast if the smirk on his face was at all genuine.

From out of the bathroom stepped the younger Winchester. Gray sweatpants hung loosely at his hips, his chest was bare. Sam gripped a towel in his left hand and scrubbed it over the back of his head in an attempt to dry his tousled hair. He crossed the floor to the small table underneath the window and dropped his various toiletries into his backpack. He then retrieved a plain white tee from it, lifting the bag and tossing it on the bed left for him. He pulled a beer from the carton chilling on the windowsill and headed toward the bathroom to discard the towel. Then turned toward the bed, sliding under the comforter and propping up against the headboard. Instead of music and magic fingers, he chose an ebook saved his cell and the steady rainfall as his background noise.

This was their life. Not much more to it. Along with the ups and downs surrounding the family's saving people, hunting things business - there was plenty of monotony. Weapons to clean, food to purchase, and news to scour like classified ads looking for their next job. 

They were lucky these days to have a place to put up their feet routinely, maybe even dare to call home. The bunker wasn't the coziest setting but they took to it quite easily. It doubled as the perfect base camp for hunting, that shop already being set up decades ago. 

But there were still plenty of nights like these. After monsters were killed and towns full of unsuspecting people were saved, the boys would need a night to regroup. A shower and a good four hours, hopefully a drink or two (or more depending on the severity of the fight). Sometimes they needed the privacy to tend to each other's wounds. Sometimes, like tonight, they just preferred a roof over their heads instead of a long drive in bad weather. 

"It's friggin' cold as ice in here."

Dean's voice cut through the silence and pulled Sam from his steady focus on the story in front of him. One glance in Dean's direction and Sam could tell he was in that half-gone, sloppy drunk stage. Dean was propped on an elbow on his right side. His eyes were glassy and crinkled at the edges. When he caught Sam's eye he smiled a dopey grin which Sam returned amusingly. 

"Yeah, the radiator's out. I can call the front office. See if they'll fix it? Or maybe at least send some extra blankets if you want."

"Naw, 'm good Sammy."

"You'd be better if you were actually under your blanket Dean," Sam scolded.

Dean was waving his hand, shooing off the comment. "Yeah yeah I know. Beer first." He lifted off the bed and grabbed the remaining bottles from the box, placing them on the nightstand between him and his brother. Then he very pointedly crawled under the covers, looking over at Sam and raising his eyebrows. Sam laughed.

"Good boy. You can learn."

Dean flipped him off without looking as he stretched his back and closed his eyes. 

Yes, nights like these were welcomed by both men. They were peaceful. Shared solitude. The shower outside furthered their nestled feeling. They were cocooned in chaos with nowhere to be and nothing to worry about until morning. It's was an eerie sort of calm.

Dean groaned and reached blindly for a bottle. He twisted the lid off and downed half the liquid, swallowing quickly. A satisfied gasp escaped his lips as he continued his gaze at the ceiling. 

"Sam?" He said not looking.

Sam returned his focus to his brother.

"Yeah Dean?"

Dean smiled softly at the crack in the ceiling and took another long swig of his beer.

"Nothing. I just," Dean made guarded eye contact, "this is nice."

Sam scoffed at his statement.

"Oh yeah? What's that Dean? The crappy motel room or the beer? What is it, third? Fourth?"

Dean sat up straighter. "No I mean," he chose his words carefully, " this. You, me, being heroes, saving the day, then getting time off for good behavior." He laughed. "I just mean, 'm glad things settled down for us."

Sam opened his mouth to respond but a loud crack of thunder and a blindly bright strike of lightning interrupted his train of thought.

"That was, weird." He said instead.

Dean was already up, with a gun in his hand, peering out of the frosty window.

"Sure is, it's Cas."

"Wh-" 

Sam tried to question but Dean was already out of the door, still half dressed and freezing. Dean was hooking an arm under the angel and hoisting him to his feet quickly, leading him inside out of the storm. Cas was groggy and disoriented and completely soaked through to the bone.

"Cas? The hell you doing out there?" Dean demanded as he was lowering his friend into a chair just inside the door. Cas blinked a few times before giving Dean a confused but stern look. 

"I was coming to you. I must have miscalculated my landing."

"You sure did," Sam giggled, "here let me take this." He peeled Cas's trench coat from his shoulders, tossing it onto the table.

"Can't you just, like, mojo yourself dry Cas?" Dean asked.

"I'm awfully tired Dean, I" Cas hunched deeper into the chair, "I don't know."

Dean waved him off. "'s fine. We got ya."

Sam and Dean methodically stripped Cas of his outer garments and Sam gathered them to hang around the room. Dean unzipped his bag and pulled out an old band shirt and a pair of boxers, handing them to the angel. 

"There's plenty of towels left in the bathroom. Dry up and put these on, okay bud?"

Cas nodded and stood slowly, slipping forward into Dean's grip. 

"Woah there man, you okay?" 

"I, I don't," Cas felt lightheaded. 

Sam spoke up, "we should help him Dean. I don't know what's up but I don't think he should try and walk while he's dizzy. He's gonna slip." 

Sam disappeared into the bathroom, reappearing in an instant with a towel in hand. He placed it on the back of the chair and stood behind Cas. With Dean still holding him upright, Sam lifted Cas shirt over his head. Sam then took hold of Cas around the waist to steady him while Dean undid his belt, shrugging his pants and boxers free. Then they lowered him to the chair and pulled the remaining bits off of his feet, shoes first. Sam used the towel to mop up any moisture on Cas's skin as Dean began carefully dressing the angel in his well worn clothing. Once they were finished Cas raised his head to thank them, but his words died on his tongue.

"Dean, you're wet."

The angel lifted a hand to warm him but Dean batted it away. 

"No. If ya can't fix yourself you sure as hell aren't wasting your energy on me." Dean stood from his kneeling position in front of him and dug through his duffel. He found another clean pair of boxers and a dry shirt. It was black with a pocket that had a hole lining the bottom of it. They'd have to head home or hit the laundromat tomorrow because Dean's supplies were running on empty. But for tonight, he was happy with their predicament. Content to be stuck in such mundane circumstances.

Dean wiggled his way out of the soaked fabric clinging to his body and took the towel Sam was still holding. Modesty was more of a luxury anyway. The brothers have shared bathrooms and sleeping quarters for most of their adults lives, both walking in on each other at awkward times. There was nothing really hidden between them anymore. And even after all his years amongst humanity, nudity still barely registered with Cas. But as Dean noticed them both looking in his direction, a wave of warmth contradicted the bitter cold air raising his skin in bumps. He dried himself as fast as he could, actively forcing his teeth not to chatter as he pulled himself into dry clothes. 

"Friggin' f-freezing." He mimicked his earlier complaint.

Sam smirked and walked around him to pick up the last remaining bottle from the nightstand. 

"One beer left Cas, you want it?"

Cas politely declined so Dean rephrased his brother's generous offer. "He's saying ya look like you could use it Cas. Drink."

Dean passed the bottle from Sam to Cas and then sat at the foot of his bed, watching him swallow it down. Cas drank like a pro. When he was finished, Dean carefully hoisted him from his chair, uncharacteristically grabbing Cas by the hand rather than the arm. 

"Come on, let's get ya warmed up."

He pushed Cas on to the bed beside him and spared a glance over his shoulder, catching Sam snuggling under his cover.

"Ya know Sammy," Dean said casually, "I'm not the greatest with numbers. But it would stand to reason that if you joined us over here, we could combined our blankets for double the warmth." 

Sam laughed out loud and was all set to argue, when he turned and caught sight of his brother deliberately tucking the angel in beneath the sheets. His heart did a little flip, melting his insides briefly. He remembered the dopey smile and gentle conversation they were having before Cas touched down and grinned.

"Well if you want to get technical about it," Sam began, "if you and Cas joined me over here, we could double the blankets and be out of the draft from that window." He said pointing at the glass. 

Dean chuckled, surrendering to his brother's logic.

"Come on," he said to the begrudgingly malleable angel, "change of plans." 

Dean pulled back the covers and wrapped an arm around Cas, who was up and falling forward apologetically into Dean quickly.

"'sall right Cas, I got ya."

He plopped Cas unceremoniously onto Sam's mattress and retrieved the covers from his bed, choosing to lift and toss them over both men, allowing them to float down over them like a parent trying to amuse their child with a bedtime distraction. Then he rounded the bed and climbed in, sandwiching Cas comfortably between him and Sam.

Dean made sure everyone was under the multiple layers of fabric before asking Sam to click off the dismal lamp. 

"And Sammy," he added with a smack of the lips, "I still have a few quarters left on the side table for the magic fingers. Just sayin'."

Sam sighed, "ugh Dea-"

"Why is it called 'magic fingers'?" Cas wondered aloud.

Dean was grinning wildly enough to light up the room, at least enough for Sam to notice.

"Come on Sammy, ya gotta now."

"But Dean isn't that, won't that be wei..."

Dean shot him a look that said 'just go with it.' So Sam conceded. He dropped a quarter in and started to sink into the mattress when Cas let out an obscene moan that had Sam chuckling in amusement. Both he and Dean turned side eyed glances in Cas's direction. Though while Sam looked on in entertained amusement, Dean watched Cas in awe. That unheard of first time pleasure entrancing him. Dean couldn't help himself. 

"See, I knew it. Ya like that babe?"

Sam mocked a scandalized expression. "Doncha mean 'bud' Dean?"

"Don't ruin the moment little brother."

Cas rode out the duration of the vibrations either unaware of or ignoring the brothers' hushed chatter. When the machine clicked off he sighed.

"That was quite pleasurable. Metaphorically it even lives up to its title."

He stretched his muscles and sunk lower, gravity claiming his worn vessel. 

"You sleepy Cas?" Dean asked him with concern. "How 'bout Sam and I take turns watching over you tonight, eh bud?"

Cas shook his head, yawning "no aah I'm quite al-aah-alriiight." Cas licked his lips and blinked a few times before snuggling into Dean's side. Crowding his space without permission. The angel was lost to slumber after a few more breaths, slowing rhythmically.

Sam caught Dean's growing dopey grin, this time from contentment and exhaustion rather than from the alcohol long gone from his system. Dean hooked an arm under Cas and pulled him close, resting his chin on his head. He used the hand on that same arm to ruffle Sam's hair.

"Night Sammy," Dean said with a sigh.

Sam smiled. "Hey Dean?"

"Wassup?" Dean yawned.

"This is nice."

"This," Dean said beckoning Sam closer so he could lay a protective hand on his shoulder, "this is awesome."


End file.
